


Lay Claim

by crookedneighbour



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Incest, Multi, Parent/Child Incest, Ramsay is his own warning, Sexual Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-05-10
Packaged: 2018-01-21 05:15:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1539038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedneighbour/pseuds/crookedneighbour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ramsay's mother interrupts him at a brothel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sara

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mollyfostergraham](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mollyfostergraham/gifts).



Ramsay shoved the young girl back towards the bed of the brothel. She was only a few years younger than him, with dark hair and wide eyes. Some of the other women had been more forward, grabbing his cock through his pants and commenting on their findings. She had looked to him with gentle eyes and seemed a bit nervous. That had appealed to him. He didn't feel like breaking a girl in tonight, and the owner had grown harsh with him the last time he did so. He'd kill the old fuck one of these days.

She'd said her name was Violet, but he could tell it wasn't her real name. Most of the women here used fake names, as if the man who fucked them wouldn't recognize them. On further though most of them were probably too drunk. He'd had half a bottle of wine himself.

Violet, lay underneath him now, her small body shaking slightly as he forced her skirts off. He paused, her skirts pooled above her narrow waist. She was unshaven and pale-skinned, her thighs lean and narrow. He let his hands settle on each side of her stomach just above the hips, then squeezed slightly, not hard enough to hurt yet.

“What's your name?” he asked softly.

“Violet,” she stuttered out, not looking hm in the face.

“What is your name?” Ramsay repeated, now beginning to apply pressure. The girl squirmed. He'd always been strong, and life at the mill had only built on that.

She let out a low cry as his nails now dug in.

“Sara. My name is Sara,” she answered.

“Did I tell you to look away from me, Sara?” Ramsay snapped. He wanted her to see him, to know him, and to know her in return.

She swallowed hard and looked back to him. Her eyes were brown and wide, fearful. _She should be afraid._ Ramsay locked his gaze with hers and studied it, the curve of her brows, the slight parting of her lips, and the almost imperceptible whine she made as she struggled against his hold. He just might have to share her with Reek later.

Ramsay cringed as the door opened, the moment now ruined.

_Mother._

Ramsay's mother took a wide step into the room. Her footing was uneven and long. She was likely drunk. She was usually drunk now.

“I'm a little busy, mother,” Ramsay grunted, still not releasing Sara.

“Oh yes. Wasting the few coins we have on your cock. Very important business, I see,” she retorted, rolling her eyes. She pushed her dirty brown hair out of her face and sighed. “I'd like a moment alone with my son, girl.”

Ramsay groaned and rolled over a bit, Sara happily worming free from his touch. She said nothing.

His mother watched the girl as she departed and waited for the door to shut behind her before she spoke again. He didn't bother putting his shirt back on, moving to sit upright on the edge of the bed.

The two of them stared in silence for a moment, his mother's arms crossed in frustration.

“If you were a lord like your father, you wouldn't have to pay for such things,” she lectured. Their talks always seemed to come back to him.

She moved to Ramsay's side, sitting down on the bed. She was still angry, but with the girl gone she seemed calmer now. She looked over him, brow furrowed.

“Oh?” he snorted.

His mother let out a brief, almost pained, laugh then grinned at him.

“A lord may lay claim to what is rightfully his,” she explained. “First Night.”

She sighed, continuing to study his face.

“You look healthy,” she observed flatly. There was something strange in her tone.

“I'm a growing boy....”

Ramsay twitched as his mother's hand brushed against his chin, gripping him slightly. He would have beat bloody anyone else who touched him like this. His mother however, was not anyone else.

She had spells in her cups sometimes where she would talk about his father and what Lord Bolton had been like, how she had watched the sway of her husband's body at his command. She would touch him sometimes then, her calloused fingers trailing up and down his chest as she spoke or occasionally settling on his thigh. Yet, it was then that she was her kindest to him.

“On your back,” she continued. She spoke in a low, but commanding whisper.

“Was that an order, mother?”

“Do it.”

Ramsay sighed and wet his lips as he lay back. He imagined she had been prettier when it happened. The years had made her face lean and bitter, but her legs were still toned and strong.

She stared at him a moment longer before now sighing herself, and letting out another uncomfortable laugh.

“You're right,” she said, no longer speaking in the strange other voice.

“Hmm...?” Ramsay cocked his head.

“You're a growing boy. Almost a man,” she answered, placing her hand on the meat of his calf. She looked to her hand as it drifted further up Ramsay's legs. “You've already got a man's urges.”

Ramsay ran his lower lip under his teeth, not quite biting. He was still half-hard from Sara, and his mother's touch brought the flow of blood back to his groin. When she then moved to mount his hips he didn't stop her. He hadn't had a girl like this in a while. He tended to prefer them bent over or on their backs, but it wouldn't do to treat his own mother that way.

“Just don't waste our coin on it,” she insisted. Ramsay had never asked how she had gotten more money out of Lord Bolton, but he could imagine it wasn't much different than what went on here.

“They'll make us pay for the room,” Ramsay groaned. His mother's touch traced over his arousal, her fingers fiddling idly with the strings of his pants. This was the first time she'd gone this far, her touches usually stopping with a final squeeze of the inner thigh.

“Then we'll go home. Get dressed.”

He sat up to kiss her. He wasn't entirely sure if it was the right thing to do, but it felt right. She had touched his cock after all. He moved to her quickly, much faster than she could counter.

Her breath smelled of the wine she'd drank and when her lips parted slightly, Ramsay darted his tongue against hers briefly. She rested her hands on his shoulders as she leaned into the gesture. She'd likely not kissed a man since his father had raped her, only Ramsay now. Something about the thought made him push his lips against hers with further fervor. When he pulled back his mother was breathing hard and he could feel that her nails had dug into his skin.

“I said get dressed.”

She dismounted from Ramsay as if nothing had passed between them.

As they left his mother and the toothless owner shot each other equally cold stares, only for his mother to punctuate hers with a forced grin back over her shoulder as they stepped through the door way.


	2. Sylvia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay and his mother make their way home.

Ramsay shut the door of their house behind them. It had always felt big for two. He liked having either her or Reek close to fill the space of the house. Emptiness bothered him. It seemed to bother his mother as well. Sometimes she'd pester him to keep the girls he fucked alive if only to fill the house with children. Despite all her grievances, she still helped bury them.

His mother moved over to the bottle of wine she had left in the house. There was roughly a quarter left when she took it to her lips, and none when it returned to the table side. She wiped her mouth unceremoniously. It was oddly beautiful, or rather she was.

“You've never let another man fuck you,” Ramsay commented. His voice dropped low as he stepped towards her. “Do you miss it?”

His mother exhaled slowly and turned to face him, the corner of her lips still reddened.

“Should I?”

He preferred she didn't. At least not until now. The thought of another man laying with her bothered him. She was his mother. He was the only man in her life.

His mother stepped forward now, running her hands gently down his sides. It tickled a bit, but when her hands settled on his hips she held firmly. She squeezed gently and the blood flushed between his legs.

“I asked first,” Ramsay teased, a slight lilt in his voice. He coiled his fingers into her hair. He reflexively tugged a bit as his mother's hand drift to the front of his pants.

“It doesn't matter if I do. We can't risk another mouth,” she answered. “But don't worry over such things.”

Ramsay gasped as his mothers fingers curled around the shaft of his cock, working him slowly through his clothes. The friction of it made a low ache start in his stomach and spread to the base of his arousal. Her fingers flicked over the tip briefly and he pulled her into another hungry kiss.

She wasn't his father's now. She had never truly been his. He had claimed her the way one takes an object, but Ramsay would have her fully. Her thumb brushed over the tip of him, making small circling motions while their lips met. She sucked softly at his lower lip, until Ramsay pushed her back into another series of smaller kisses.

As he felt her moving to unlace him, Ramsay pulled back a moment.

“Tell me your mine,” he growled.

“I'm yours.”

His mother seemed amused by the request, but not disingenuous. That was enough. She was his. She gripped his shaft in one hand, tugging down his foreskin while she placed the thumb of her other hand on the tip of his cock.

Ramsay's back arched as she began to work him, thrusting into the palm of her hand. His breath felt hot in his lungs and the tension between his legs made his lips tingle as he exhaled. He could still feel the memory of her across them.

He was almost helpless to the feel of it and his hair had begun to stick to the side of his face with sweat. He struggled to open his eyes so he could meet hers.

She looked back at him strangely. She was smiling, but there was a pain as well. He couldn't fuck it out of her, but perhaps later with his mouth or fingers he could change her. He knew this was supposed to feel wrong, but it was fitting somehow. Perhaps his father's desire for her had been passed on into him.

Ramsay came into his mother's hand with a series of low throaty moans, his body twitching as he reflexively thrust and swore.

As the pleasure of his orgasm gave way into a vague hazy sense of warmth, his mother's fingers brushed against his lips.

“Suck them clean.”

Ramsay nodded, smiling slightly as his tongue lapped along his mother's fingers. His own seed with sticky and thick in his mouth, and the taste remained even as he swallowed. He nipped at the tips of her fingers as he pulled back and his mother.

“I'd rather have your taste on my lips, mother,” Ramsay whispered, still holding her fingers close to his mouth.

She chuckled, carding a hand through his hair.

“Tomorrow morning,” she answered.

“Why not now?”

“Because I want to remember it.”

Ramsay gritted his teeth. It was frustrating, but she had a point. He wanted her to remember the first time she gasped his name. Perhaps he'd even do so well she'd want him to fuck her. They could buy moon tea with the money he was saving not going to the brothel.

“Come to bed with me at least?” he asked.

“Alright.”

Ramsay moved into his mother's arms to sleep. He wasn't sure what she would remember the next day, but there was a thrill to the thought of confronting her with it. He'd crawl between her legs and tell her how she's made her own son spill into her hand, then lap between her legs till she ached for his cock. He couldn't tell Reel of this as he'd want to share her. This was something that was solely his.


End file.
